


Run Little Monster, Run

by Levaaah



Category: Curse of Strahd - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Blue Water Inn, Dhampir, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magic, Running Away, Vallaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 11:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levaaah/pseuds/Levaaah
Summary: Reflections and thoughts of one Valeria von Zarovich, as she meets up with the group that would assist her in their quest to vanquish the Dread Lord of Barovia. However, Valeria's own agenda is to be determined.





	Run Little Monster, Run

Valeria stares out the multi coloured window of her room, she can see the distant village of Barovia. Like a morbidly beautiful but muted painting. There’s a flash of light that brightens up her room, casting eerie shadows around her. The large bed with its royal purple silk covers. The dark wooden vanity littered with paper that she was sure to toss in the fire later. The large armoire that almost seems to loom threateningly in the far end of the room. The fireplace on the opposite side, the faint glow of hot coal still present.

Here is the place she grew up, the place she came to realize that her father was not what she thought. The place she was forever trapped in.

Though, he has been busy the past couple of days, enough that she might be able to flee unnoticed. Even with Rahadin’s constant watching eyes. But she knows she will only get one shot at this, she needs it to go perfectly or he might just kill her this time.

The scars on her back echo in pain of a distant memory of a time she was innocent to the world, Valeria had only ever wanted to explore this dim world she’d grown up in. She had thought he would be proud of her, stepping out on her own two legs, like a new born doe. Instead he had punished her for running away, for betraying him. It didn’t matter how much she insisted on that it had never been her intention.

She pushes it aside, she needs to focus.

 

Valeria traces her fingers over the blade of the raven crested dagger in her hand, she watches almost transfixed as a drop of blood smears over the sharp edge. She shouldn’t bring it with her, she really shouldn’t. But it’s been with her since she was a small child. Given to her as a gift from an absentee father.

She sticks the tip of her thumb in her mouth and licks the blood of her finger, a wave of disgust shivers down her spine as her fangs try to break free of her gums. She represses the urge. Her own blood is corrupted by her undead side. Like the blood of animals. Still blood, but un-pure, tainted.

Human blood was different, like the most amazing thing she’d ever tasted. Her mind reels as the sudden memory of the victims that had been dragged to her for her sustenance resurfaces. Her hand shoots out and she grips the stone wall with a heavy heart. Victims. There’s no other word for to describe it.

Murderer and monster, was she truly so different from the shadow that plagued her father?

 

Another flash of light and the distant roar of thunder shakes her out of her melancholy. She needs a plan, she needs to free her family from this curse.

 

Walking across her room to the almost closed door she stays by it and listens for a while. The sound of the pipe organ echoes in the empty halls of the castle. Telling her that he is home. She closes her eyes, enjoying the flowing music, though it tells a tale of sadness it is somewhat comforting to hear. He’s always played it. It’s the sound of home.

Some part of her wants to never leave, she wants to run to him and tell him that she loves him, that they don’t need anyone or anything. But she knows, deep down that it won't change anything. Her father is set in his way, like the stones of Ravenloft. There is only one thing she can do to try to help, and she cannot do it from the castle. There’s a soft pause in the music, like he knows she’s standing in the door listening, before it continues.

Keeping the door open, she sags against the wall tucking her legs up against her chest and leans against the small opening. The music takes another tone, softer and almost gentle.

She’s just going to listen for a while, before she sets her plan in action. Just a little while longer.

She wakes again with the door to her room shutting, she’s in her bed. Sprawled above the silk fabric, the fire in the fireplace crackling softly as the rain on her window drowns out any other noise. She closes her eyes again, resting against the softness of her bed.

 

Valeria doesn’t mind being alone, she’s never felt the need to socialize. Probably because she’s spent most of her childhood on her own. Her father was always nearby sure, but he was never really _near_. She never played with other children her age, or played at all. She read the various books of the large library her father had gathered over multiple centuries. She learnt languages and how to act like proper nobility. She learnt how to play the organ when her father allowed it and she learnt how to fight.

_‘A Zarovich must learn how to defend herself, and how to vanquish her foes.’_

At least some of those lessons will become useful now.

Valeria stares at the unfinished sketch of the mother she’s never met. There’s a larger portrait of her just down the hall, red hair tied back by a pink bow, a sly smile on her rosy lips. Bianca Milanović was the most beautiful woman Valeria had ever seen. She wished she could speak with her. Just once. Flipping the pages to the cover she traces her fingers over the cursive handwriting of her mother.

> _To my dearest Primrose,_  
>  _What makes night within us may leave stars everlasting_
> 
> _With love  
>  Your mother_  
>  _Bianca Milanović_

She closes the book carefully and tucks it in one of her pockets. She wouldn’t leave it behind, not when it was the only thing she had left of her mother.

Tracing her fingers over the letter with the Zarovich wax seal that sits on the vanity she swallows hard, guilt flowing through her. She didn’t want it like this, not even after he had lashed out at her all those years ago, but she just didn’t see any other option.

She grabs the steel hand mirror from her vanity quickly and starts heading for the door. It would help her look around corners should she need it. Of course, her father would not show up in it, but she was fairly certain that he wasn’t in the castle at this moment. Having left earlier for some business she wasn’t privy to. She needed to move quickly if she was to get out before he returned.

 

Even though Valeria grew up in Ravenloft, and have spent the better part of her century old life within the walls, there are still many corridors and rooms she has never been in, but there is no time to stop and explore now. No matter how curious she was to just peak inside. She knows if she’s caught by Rahadin he will no doubt manage to restrain her until her father comes back. Getting out of her tower is easy enough, and she knows the way to the dining hall so all she needs to do is to go straight ahead from the chapel and she’ll see the large doors leading out. As she rounds the corner of the chapel, she starts smelling the freshness of the cold winter air. She’s almost free.

Pushing through the doors she almost stumbles as the frost covered ground catches her by surprise. The clouded sky gives her a brief moment of pause, she knows that the sunlight here can’t hurt her, because there is no sunlight. She doesn’t even know if actual sunlight would hurt her or not. There are some many things she doesn’t know about herself.

That’s when she sees the large gate, it’s surrounding walls looms like a threat as she approaches it. There’s no lock for these walls, no way to open it. Valeria curses, feeling powerless yet again. There is no time for this. She needs to leave NOW or she’ll spend another eternity trapped in a tower that she knows inside out.

As she paces, she feels the familiar tug of magic in the palms of her hands. There has to be a spell that could assist her, something that would let her shapeshift perhaps? No, she hadn’t studied those magics. If she couldn’t shape change, maybe she could climb the walls?

She draws out the runes in the air, pulling on the deepest part of her magic. Her dragon head necklace hums with arcane power as she words the final part of the spell, and energy circles around her, even in the rain her hair whips from the small maelstrom. She presses a hand against the wall, and starts climbing.

Standing on the precipice of a decision that will surely see her dead should her father catch her, she can’t help but feel a sting of regret. She never wanted to hurt him. She loves her father. But they could never be free of this curse with his monsters shadow constantly looming over them.

She leaps.

 

 

She’s exhausted by the time she sees the walls of a village. Running through the rain has her cold and wet, her limbs feel as though they might fall off of her at any moment. Yet she pushes on.

Cautiously she approaches the gate. She spots the guard in the tower before he sees her.

“Who goes there? State your business and intention!” He shouts as soon as he sees her. For a moment she can’t find the air she needs to speak. Holding her arms around herself she looks up through watery eyelashes.

“I’m seeking shelter from the storm.” Her voice is cracked, unused. The guard doesn’t move an inch. For a split second she feels foolish, why would anyone let her in? They don’t know her. Then the guard breaths a heavy sigh, and starts to pull the gate up for her to enter.

As soon as the gate is open enough for her to get through, they wave her in and she ducks her head in gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go around causing trouble.” The one on the ground mutters, Valeria nods her head and starts walking down the road.

“Hey miss!” the one with the spear calls out towards her. Valeria turns around with a questioning glance. “If you don’t have any place to stay there’s an inn in the centre of town. The Blue Water Inn.”

“... Thank you.” She murmurs, surprised by the guard's generosity.

 

Valeria is amazed by how many people there are around as she walks the village. Most seem to just be trying to get out of the rain, but there is still light and a kind of warmth around the place that she’s never experienced before. She spots the Blue Water Inn fairly easily as it lies on the main road. On one of the lampposts she can also see a flyer about a festival that starts tomorrow. Festival of the Blazing Sun. She absentmindedly wonders if the weather will clear up by then.

An older looking man stands outside the inn that the guard pointed her towards, when their eyes meet, he tilts his head and waves her over.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he states, a warm smile on his bearded face. “Do you have a place to stay at?”

“The guard at the gate said to look for the Blue Water Inn.” She murmurs in reply, rubbing her hands over her arms to keep warm.

“They did?” He seems genuinely surprised by that. When she nods he exhales with a chuckle. “Well, why don’t you come inside? I’m Urwin Martikov, I run this place with my wife, Danika.” He extends his hand towards her.

“I’m Valeria von Zarovich,” she replies and shakes his hand. Recognition flashes in his eyes and for a moment he stares at her in complete surprise, then at the crest on her armour. The way that he looks at her, she feels the sudden urge to apologize. But instead of shooing her off like she thinks he would do, he just smiles again even though it’s a bit more forced than a minute ago.

“Let’s get you out of the rain, Valeria.”

 

The inside of the tavern is cosy, with a couple of people all enjoying some meal or drink chatting to each other. Urwin sets her down by the bar, and after getting her a cup of warm wine, on the house of course, wanders off to help a couple of other customers.

She shrugs off her hood and lets her hair loose, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. Most if not all people however don’t even spare her a second glance, too absorbed in their own worlds.

Not soon after Urwin comes back, and looks slightly surprised by the fact that the wine cup is untouched.

“Not a fan of wine?”

“I’m not sure.” She replies with a frown looking at the purplish red liquid. It reminds her somewhat of blood. But it smells different, a sweet punget sent. Urwin gives her a questioning glance. “I’ve never tried anything like this before.” Valeria admits when she catches the look.

“Oh, well try it and see if you like it. If you don’t, I’m sure there’s something else we can get you.” He scoots the mug closer to her still cold fingers. Valeria hesitantly picks it up and gives it a whiff. It doesn’t smell terribly bad, she decides. But neither does it smell too appetizingly. She decides to humour the human none the less and takes a small sip.

The flavour explodes on her tongue, it’s sweet almost too sweet and leaves a lingering warm feeling throughout her body. She looks up at Urwin in surprise, the human in question laughs warmly.

“I take it you like it then?”

“I do.” She admits, taking another small sip. She thinks that perhaps the flavour isn’t her biggest favourite. However, she does enjoy the warm feeling that spreads across her body. Urwin smiles at her again, seemingly pleased that she likes it.

“So...” He starts, eyes flickering around the room before returning to her. “You’re from the castle?” The Castle. The way he says it makes it sound like he’s talking about Hell. She nods her head in confirmation however, taking another small sip of the warm wine. Urwin just looks at her, and she tilts her head questioningly.

“I just... I had no idea that people other than you-know-who lived up there.” Valeria frowns at the strange wording.

“You mean Strahd.” Urwin’s eyes shoots to the other patrons worryingly and then leans closer to her, Valeria holds her breath, she’s never been this close to a human who wasn’t... well... who wasn’t food. Urwin lowers his voice.

“We don’t mention his name in Vallaki. The Burgomaster fears it summons him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She scoffs, “He’s not a demon or a devil.”

“To many people of this town he is.” Urwin replies, a tired look crosses his face. “Many spend their lives in constant fear for incurring his wrath.”

Valeria looks around the room again, properly this time, what she didn’t spot before was the tired eyes. Lowering her voice to match Urwin’s she speaks again.

“I knew my father wasn’t the greatest of lords to his people, but I didn’t think it was this bad.” Colour seems to disappear from Urwin’s face, and she feels like she really, _really_ shouldn’t have said that.

“Your father...?”

She doesn’t know what to say, panic starts setting in. Fear of a mob being brought down on her head for just being affiliated with the Zarovich name runs wild in her head.

Urwin however, surprises her. Instead of calling out into the room that she’s the daughter of their nightmares he calmly pours a bit of alcohol into a mug and downs it.

“That would explain the name and the armour I suppose.”

She stares.

Urwin smiles, a hesitant smile but a smile none the less.

“You might not want to mention that bit to... well everyone else here. They won’t be as... openminded about it.”

Valeria opens her mouth, but no words come out. She imagines she looks quite a lot like a fish in this particular moment. Urwin chuckles warmly.

“... Thank you?” It comes out as a question.

“Don’t worry about it.” He shifts more upright and gives her a serious look. “But like I said, that name isn’t welcome here for many reasons. You’d do good to hide your identity.”

“I see.” She doesn’t like it at all, she’s a very proud woman, taking after her father no doubt. But if she was to operate out of Vallaki to find some sort of cure for her father she understood that a fake name would probably be for the best. Her hand shifts to the pouch on her hip where the small poetry book was stashed.

“Primrose.” She says then, meeting Urwin’s eyes. “It’s the name my mother wanted for me.”

Urwin extends a hand for her to shake.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Primrose.”

As the night closes in the people in the tavern start to leave, returning to their various abodes before it gets too dark, Urwin offers her a room to stay in.

(“Free of charge but don’t tell my wife.” He says with a wink.)

Outside lightning brightens up the sky, and thunder rumbles behind it. The door opens to the inn and in walks a group of adventurers. Their gear mudded and wet from the storm with eyes that shine from sadness, anger and defeat. But there’s a resolute burning in them as well, a drive that matches the fire in her own soul.

 

Prim feels hopeful.


End file.
